


Play On

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: If Music Be... [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Musicians, F/M, Families of Choice, Found Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Music, fluff and nonsense, the media - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles from the 'If Music Be the Food of Love' AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play On

**Tattoos**

For their fifth anniversary Dick and Babs got tattoos. His was a simple line of print in curling cursive so dark a blue it’s almost black marching up the inside of his right forearm, spelling out: ‘ _If music be the food of love…’._ Barbara’s was in the same font, simple, elegant letters picking out the words _‘…play on’_ across the back of her neck.

**Fame**

            “When the hell did we get famous?” Tim asked one night backstage as they listened to their fans’ restless footsteps outside.

            “A little late to be asking the important questions, birdie,” Jason drawled.

            Steph snorted, “And you, Jason Todd-Wayne, had better stay the fuck away from drugs.”

            “What? Why me? Why am I being singled out here? Tim and Cass could easily end up crackheads.”

            “I’m simultaneously offended at the implication and flattered that you’re defending my honor, albeit poorly and offensively,” Tim said dryly.

            “Because,” Steph leveled a finger in Jason’s direction and he swatted it away, “You make the best brooding, violent, fuck-the-system romantic hero. And Hollywood has taught me that it’s always you guys who end up back-stabbing their friends, breaking up the band, and dying miserable and alone when they inevitably OD in their pool.”

            “What the fuck.” Jason said so flatly it stopped being a question.

            “So here’s the deal,” Steph continued, “I like your sorry butt and want to keep the band together and you out of that metaphorical pool. So. No drugs. No hookers either, that always leads to blackmail and shame.”

            “Did you _research_ the rise and fall of rock bands or something?” Jason asked incredulously.

            “Yes,” Cass informed him bluntly.

            “You have no idea how many depressing movies I had to sit through,” Tim shot him a pained look, “They’re really concerned for your well-being now.”

            “I’m simultaneously touched and really pissed at all of you.”

            “See, Jason? Now you know how I felt two seconds ago.”

            “Shut up, Tim.”

**Bruises**

            “Dick. Fix this.”

            “Oh hey, Tim. Holy crap, what happened to your face?”

            “I got in a fight with Damian over the remote and now the tabloids are saying I’m in an abusive relationship.”

            “With who?”

            “Exactly. I’m not dating anyone. So now they’re churning out speculative articles. Except, of course, National Enquirer, who just skipped straight ahead to debauchery and says I’m dating the whole band and we’re all simultaneously drug addicts with days to live.”

            “Wow. What a full life you lead.”

            “Dick. Fix this.”

            “Umm…I’ll see what I can do?”

**Food for Thought**

“What about Red Robin?”

“No, Jason.”

“Taco Bell?”

“Definitely not.”

“Fine, be a snob. MacDonald’s?”

“This is getting worse and worse.”

“Subway?”

“Dammit, Jason, we know you’re hungry, but throwing out restaurant names is not going to make us pick a _real_ band name any faster!”

“I’d be okay with Red Robin.”

“See, Steph, Tim’s on my side.”

“Ugh.”


End file.
